The Lies She Believed
by Lily Lace
Summary: Lacey Stevenson is a normal 21-year-old with an equally normal life. Until she is kidnapped and held captive by Russian assassin Yassen Gregorovich. Why has this happened to her?  And what has all of this got to do with her father?
1. One

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Lacey demanded, narrowing her eyes at the man standing guard by the door. For the past two minutes he had done nothing but stand and watch her. It was uncomfortable, to say the least.

His eyes narrowed faintly and if she hadn't been looking at him very closely she wouldn't have noticed at all. So he didn't like being questioned? Lacey filed that information away. Maybe it would help her, though she couldn't see how anything could help her now.

Finally the man spoke, lowering himself into the chair next to him. "You're a very pretty girl. Work it out." He smirked, knowing that he had helped make her even more uncomfortable. He watched her squirm and held back a smirk.

Lacey glared at him, her eyes full of hatred. "In your dreams." She hissed, shrinking even further against the wall where she sat. There was a bed in the room but she had decided to rebel against anything nice these people did for her. She just wanted to go home.

* * *

Five days ago Lacey Stevenson had been innocently walking home through town. She had to walk along an almost always deserted path to get back to her house, but she had walked this way many times before and every single time she had managed to get back to her front door safely.

_Not this time._

As she was approaching the end of the path two men had walked around the corner and continued on their way towards her. She had started to panic ever so slightly but she pushed it down again. Just because she barely ever saw people on her walk home didn't mean it wasn't possible. They were probably taking the shortcut into town, heading to one of the various pubs.

Lacey had continued walking and the moment she passed by the two men her heart rate dropped rapidly and she breathed a quick sigh. She was easily paranoid but she was usually almost wrong.

_Not this time._

As she had been about to turn the corner she had felt a terrible pain on the side of her head and it took her thirty seconds to find out what had happened. One of the men had whacked her over the head with something. It all happened to quickly.

Lacey passed out.

* * *

She had woken up on the bed but had slipped off instantly to try and escape. That had been when this man came in and sat down on the chair. He had alternated between standing and sitting for the past five days, only leaving to eat and use the bathroom, she assumed.

Lacey stared at the man again, shaking the memory of her capture from her mind. During the past few days she had realised that he was actually rather attractive, with his short blond hair and sharp blue eyes, and under any other circumstances she would probably have flirted with him. In a bar or something. But this man was her captor and she felt nothing but hatred for him. That… and a tiny little bit of intrigue.

In the five days they had been confined in this room together he had said very little, moved even less and didn't seem in the least uncomfortable. Something about him was strange and if she weren't trapped in this tiny space (where she assumed she would also die) then she would have tried to find out more about him.

But things weren't different, and Lacey spent most of her time ignoring him and staring at the floor making escape plans. None of which would work, she knew. But it was comforting to feel like she was doing something to help herself.

Finally she had had enough of thinking and she slid down onto her side and curled into a ball, letting her hair fall over her face. She didn't know what time it was but she couldn't stand to be awake any longer. She still didn't know why she was here and she felt like she was slowly going crazy.

* * *

He had been paid two thousand British pounds to watch over Lacey, and another three thousand to arrange her kidnapping. He hadn't been told exactly why she was wanted and frankly he didn't care for specifics. That wasn't his concern.

He stared at her for a few minutes longer before rolling his eyes and staring at the wall opposite him. She had fallen asleep quickly, not that he was surprised. For the past five days Lacey had been determined to stay awake and glare at him. She was obviously afraid he would hurt her while she slept. He wasn't going to even go near her. He would tease her like he had earlier but he would never do anything. He was an assassin and that was what he was paid for.

Not that he was even getting paid for that right now. He was clearly being used as some sort of babysitter. It was humiliating. When he agreed to this 'job', babysitting a twenty-one year old girl had not been on his To Do List.

He was bored. It was as simple as that.

There was nothing to do but sit or stand and stare at the walls and ignore the girl every time she spoke. She asked too many questions and it annoyed him. He had often found himself leaving the room to go for a walk around the grounds.

He and Lacey had been placed in a little house in the middle of the Scottish highlands, miles from civilisation. He supposed after today he would probably let her out of the room, keeping the whole house locked up of course so she couldn't escape. Not that there was anywhere for her to go if she did get out, and he doubted she would even be able to try with him right there the entire time, but it was best to be safe.

The people he was working for were two days late in collecting the girl and if he had to spend any more time in this room he would go insane. He had been told to stay with her at all times, but he wasn't specifically told to stay in the one room. They had a whole house. It wouldn't do either of them any harm.

According to his watch it was four in the morning. He leaned back against the chair and closed his eyes. Four hours until eight o'clock. He would wake her up then.

He woke her up the next morning, shaking her a little too roughly. "Get up." He said, his Russian accent cutting through her dreams. Lacey groaned and rolled over, squinting up at him through tired eyes. She huffed and forced herself into an upright position.

"What is the point?" She complained, rubbing her eyes. "I've got nothing to be up for."

"Follow me." He strode to the door, opening it wide. Then he turned and stared at her when he noticed she hadn't stood up yet. "Come on." He demanded. "Or would you rather stay in here?"

Lacey jumped to her feet instantly, noticing that it looked like the man was hiding a smile. She huffed again, glaring at him. She didn't trust him. She had already decided that he wasn't letting her go, but why would he suddenly just let her out of the room?

"What's your name?" She asked him, not taking another step. He knew her name and it wouldn't make her trust him any more if she had to keep thinking of him as 'the man'. Not that she ever intended to trust him, of course.

He raised and eyebrow and the corners of his mouth curled up slightly in… what was it? It could have been either contempt or amusement, Lacey couldn't tell which. This man barely showed emotion on his face, she realised.

He turned and walked out of the room, obviously expecting her to follow. "Yassen." He threw back over his shoulder. "Yassen Gregorovich."


	2. Two

"If there was a whole house out here then why were you shut up in that room with me?" Lacey's voice cut through the silence. She had been sitting in the living room area of the house for ten minutes, Yassen across the room from her on a chair. Ten minutes felt like ten hours.

Yassen took a moment to respond, as though he were trying to decide whether to actually talk to her at all. Eventually he seemed to decide that he would, at least, humour the girl.

"There have been a lot of guards out here for the last five days." He said quietly, and Lacey actually remembered now that she had seen a lot of men standing around when she was dragged kicking and screaming up to her room.

"What and you're not good enough to play with the big boys? Shame." Maybe if Lacey had known that the man sitting across from her was a professional killer she might have thought twice about making silly remarks. Indeed she probably wouldn't have spoken to him at all.

Yassen's eyebrow arched ever so slightly but he simply looked amused and carried on. "There are locks on all the doors out here and bars on the windows as you have seen." He paused, sniffing "but I had orders. I was told to stay in the room with you in case you tried anything stupid."

"It's not like I could have escaped…" Lacey began to speak but trailed off after she caught the look in Yassen's eyes. "Oh." They had wanted to make sure she didn't find a way to kill herself. "Where are the guards now?" She asked, deciding to change the subject.

"Gone," was the simple reply – when it eventually came.

"I can see that." She muttered to herself. "Gone where?"

A tiny sigh escaped Yassen's lips. This girl was ridiculous. Why was she not huddled in the corner in fear like so many others would be? That was probably the best place for her, he decided. She was too curious. Asking too many questions gets you killed.

"The people who were to collect you were supposed to pick you up two days ago. The guards _had_ to leave. They have other jobs. I have my orders." He paused a moment and watched her.

Lacey frowned at him and turned her head away, instead looking out of the barred window. She could see fields. That was literally all she could see. Grass stretched out for miles. Even if she were able to get past the locks on the doors or the bars on the windows there would be nowhere for her to hide. Yassen would be able to find her in a second.

* * *

It was an hour before Lacey dared speak again. She had picked up on the fact that Yassen did not like to answer too many questions. In fact he barely seemed to enjoy talking in general. She wondered why.

"What do… what do these people want me for?" Her voice was quieter, not really wanting to know the answer, just trying to fill the gaps in the silence.

She was talking again. Yassen really wanted to just gag her to shut her up. He supposed he could, but he didn't really have anything to use. "I don't know the specifics. I'm just doing what I'm paid to do." He paused, tilting his head slightly. "I do know it has something to do with your father. I know nothing else."

Lacey had been staring at her hands as he spoke. Sometimes looking at him unnerved her, especially when she knew he was irritated with her for simply talking. But the more questions she asked the more chance of her finding some way out, she figured. Maybe he would slip up and say something stupid. That possibility hardly seemed likely now though. Then her head jerked up at the mention of her father.

"I… I don't know my father! What are you talking about?" She cried doubtfully. "Maybe you've got the wrong girl."

"No." He snapped. "I know how to do my job. Go to sleep or something."

"I'm not tired." Lacey retorted, crossing her arms childishly and staring at the floor.

The two of them lapsed into a very uncomfortable silence.

* * *

Across the country, in London, George Watson was making his way along a busy street. He was tall with dark blue eyes and hair that used to be black but had started turning grey in his late twenties. He had been upset about it then, but now he barely noticed. Hair was hair and it was nothing to cry over in his opinion. In his smart suit he looked, for all the world, like a businessman. That was a far cry from his real job however.

George Watson was a spy. He worked for the Special Operations Division at MI6.

His phone went off in his pocket and he pulled it out and snapped it open by his ear in one fluid movement. "Watson."

"Watson. Thank God I caught you." Alan Blunt's uninspiring voice reached George's ear and he half smiled.

"What can I do for you?" He had, in fact, just left the Special Operations headquarters that masqueraded as a bank.

"I need you to come back. I just received a very intriguing e-mail." Blunt paused. "This is something you should know."

* * *

Where were the people who wanted her? Yassen thought angrily to himself. This was stupid; did they seriously mean to leave him here with this annoying girl for much longer? Yassen wanted to get out and go back to Scorpia. He was certain they would have more interesting jobs waiting for him upon his arrival.

_ He should have been going back two and a half days ago._

He was angry and he knew that was the only reason Lacey hadn't spoken for the past twelve hours except to announce that she needed to use the bathroom or that she needed a drink of water. He had followed her and waited outside the bathroom and had chucked a bottle of water at her and told her to drink it slowly.

Yassen didn't show the anger on his face but even he could feel its presence in the room. Maybe it was scaring her. _Good. _The girl should be scared. He could kill her faster than she could think if he wanted to.

_They want her alive, _he reminded himself. This was stupid. He was getting upset over nothing, he realised. _Why? _Why was this particular job annoying him so much? He had managed to sit still before and feel absolutely fine, so why should this be any different?

He looked across the room and watched Lacey simply because he had nothing else to do. She had pulled the label from the bottle of water and was crumpling it in her hand. Over and over again. Yassen narrowed his eyes and looked away.

"I need to make a phone call." He announced as he stood up. "Do not move." He directed the words to her and stalked from the room.

* * *

"Yeah like I can go anywhere." Lacey muttered to herself as she watched Yassen leave the room. He was standing by the front door but he hadn't opened it. Lacey stood up and crept to the living room door, eavesdropping.

She gave up when she realised Yassen was speaking in what she guessed was Russian.

Lacey wondered if he was always such an angry person. _Maybe his parents didn't love him. _She laughed quietly to herself and then frowned again. What had he meant when he said it had something to do with her father?

Lacey had grown up with her mother and that was all. She knew her father existed somewhere out in the world and she knew his name and had a photograph of him hidden in a notebook in her bedroom. Nothing else. She had always thought there was some sort of secrecy in the way everybody reacted when he was brought up however. Not that he was often talked about. He seemed to be a taboo subject in her family.

Maybe the secret was the reason she was here.

Lacey immediately scolded herself. What was the point of creating more drama in a situation that needed no more? She was being held captive in the middle of nowhere by a man who hated everything, waiting for people to come and 'collect her'. These people probably wanted nothing more than to kill her. It really did look quite hopeless.

She was pulled out of her reverie by Yassen stomping back into the room.


	3. Three

**Just wanted to quickly say thanks for all the feedback so far. You guys are fantastic. I wasn't expecting anyone to favourite this or put it in their alerts. I don't think I was even expecting any good reviews if I'm honest. I kind of rushed that first chapter and it sort of went from there.**

**Anyway some of you were talking about Alex and… well, this is the chapter he makes his appearance. "Yes! Hooray!" I can imagine the enthusiasm now! If you're not excited then please just humour me and pretend you are. I'll give you a moment to get into character…. Brilliant!**

**Moving on because I'm rambling! I'm not sure how often I'll be updating in the next few weeks. Life and all that. You'll forgive me, of course? Yes! Here we are then. I wasn't sure where I was going in this chapter, but… enjoy!**

**

* * *

**

"No."

It was the second word Alex Rider had spoken since this meeting, or whatever it was supposed to be, had started half an hour ago. The first had been 'hello'.

Alan Blunt raised an eyebrow and simply stared at him, his face giving nothing away. As usual. The man never seemed to change. He was as grey as ever.

The other man in the room, George Watson, was also staring at Alex. He, however, wasn't even trying to hide his emotions. Alex could see the shock and regret written in his eyes. He looked away.

"I'm sorry. It's horrible, it really is, and I wish I could help but… no." He was done with all this. He had already told Blunt that and what had happened? Yet another call from Mrs Jones.

Jack had tried to talk him out of even going to Liverpool Street, as usual, but Alex had gone along anyway. He always did, didn't he? Sometimes he wondered why he couldn't just keep away.

When he had arrived Mrs Jones had met him in the reception and together they had travelled up in the elevator from which she had led him to Blunt's office. Blunt, unusually, wasn't alone. Agent George Watson had been pacing the room with something Alex could only describe as worry written all over his handsome features. The two men had looked up as soon as the door opened.

"Ah, Alex." Blunt's voice. "We were just talking about you."

Alex had forced a small smile as he edged further into the room.

"Please, have a seat." Blunt had done his best to be pleasant but there was an edge to his voice and he looked up at George, who was still pacing. The other man came to a standstill in front of the desk though he was still wringing his hands in front of him.

"Alex this is George Watson, he too works for us, and about two hours ago I received an e-mail that, I have to say, left me more than just a little displeased."

Alex murmured a 'hello' to George Watson but said nothing else, ignoring the fact that Blunt had implied that Alex worked for them. The less he said the better, he decided.

Blunt simply blinked at him and carried on with his story. "This e-mail was from a man who says that right now he is in Scotland. Nothing wrong with that in itself of course, nice place, very beautiful. What got me, Alex, was the next part of the e-mail. Actually, I'll just read it out for you." Blunt picked up a sheet of paper from his desk, holding it with the thumb and forefinger of both his hands, one at the top and one at the bottom, and started to read.

'_Mr Alan Blunt_

_I'm writing this e-mail from a lovely house in Edinburgh. Have you ever been to Scotland? It's wonderful! If you haven't visited I suggest you make plans. You're missing out, sir! I suppose, though, holiday plans don't interest a man such as yourself so let's get straight down to business shall we?_

_ I thought it was probably my duty to inform you of a kidnapping. Now you're probably wondering how I know about a kidnapping. I arranged it, of course!_

_ The girl's name is Lacey Peterson. I believe – no, I _know_ – she is the daughter of one of your agents. George Watson, is that right?_

_ Basically, what I'm saying is, either Watson hands himself over to me or his daughter regretfully will have to die in his place. Unfair, really, that she should die for something she knows nothing about. Life is unfair though, isn't it?_

_ Looking forward to your e-mail!_

_ M.'_

Blunt lay the sheet of paper back down on the table and blinked once more, his eyes flicking between George, Alex and Mrs Jones, allowing Alex to grasp the situation.

Alex had known what was coming. He knew Blunt was about to ask him to go to Scotland and find this Lacey girl and rescue her. Like a proper hero.

Of course Blunt and the rest of them would dress it up and make it all seem very easy and painless. _'Back in time for tea!' _They would tell him. _'Piece of cake, don't worry about it!' _Every word that came out of their mouths was poison and lies. Alex had been through enough to realise that. He was almost fifteen now and this was ridiculous. Surely they had to leave him alone soon?

He had spoken up before anybody else could begin. His answer was no.

Blunt, yet again, merely blinked at him. From the corner of the room Mrs Jones looked down at her shoes as though she were inspecting them for dirt. George Watson looked as though he were about to collapse.

"I have to go then." He muttered, his eyes looking crazed. "I have to… I have to get her out… I… this is my fault. She shouldn't be there, she shouldn't be caught up in any of this…" He began pacing again.

"Watson, please, you're making a scene." Blunt's voice was monotonous, as if this whole thing were quite ordinary.

Nothing about this seemed ordinary to Alex. This man seemed to have gone crazy in a matter of minutes and nobody knew what to do. As it happened there wasn't actually a lot they needed to do. George calmed himself down after three and a half minutes, sinking into a chair beside Mrs Jones, shaking his head.

"Please Alex…" He murmured softly. "There's nothing I can do, I'm not in the field anymore. There's no one else I would trust with this." He looked up at Alex suddenly, studying his face. "You look more and more like your father every day." He considered, more to himself than anyone else, but it was enough.

"You knew my dad?" Alex could feel himself getting roped in and vaguely tried to pull himself back and calm himself down.

George nodded. "Yes. We would talk every now and then. We'd both be so busy that we wouldn't often get the chance… but when we did I always enjoyed his company. When he died, I…" He shook his head and looked away again. "Sorry."

Alex turned away and noticed Blunt was studying him curiously. Alex sighed heavily and nodded. "Last time, yeah?"

Blunt nodded once. "Last time, Alex."

* * *

Lacey chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. She had five more days trapped in this house with this ridiculous man and then she would be _'picked up', _as he put it.

Yassen had come back in from the phone call in a bad mood though he had tried not to show it at all. Lacey was very good at reading people who hid their emotions, however. Her mother had done it, and she was also studying psychology at college. She'd also had dreams of maybe one day joining the police force when she was a bit older. It looked like she wouldn't live that long.

Evidently the people who had asked Yassen to kidnap her and watch over her were working on his last nerve. He had told her that they would be here five more days. Then they would both be going their separate ways. He had made it sound like they were old friends who were meeting up for the first time in ages and who would soon be saying goodbye again. She didn't like that.

She hadn't spoken again. Even if she needed to use the bathroom she had simply gotten up and walked out, knowing he would follow anyway.

She had five days to escape.

* * *

At least she was being quiet. Yassen decided that was something. He preferred to be quiet and just listen and this girl was the complete opposite. She obviously hated silence.

It seemed to make her nervous.

In the past two hours Yassen had watched her bite her nails, pull at her clothes and twist her hair between her fingers. It was maddening.

"Are you hungry?" He asked suddenly, remembering that people actually needed to eat every now and then. His captors did want her alive and they said nothing of torturing her so he assumed he would be expected to feed her.

Lacey shook her head, however, her eyes on the floor. How old was she? Yassen hadn't asked and it didn't specifically matter, his mind was simply wandering. She couldn't have been older than twenty-two, he was sure of that. Young then…

He stopped, frowning, annoyed at himself. _You cannot think of the victims as people. You cannot use their names. You cannot get hung up on things like their age. Those things make you see them as people with families and jobs and lives outside of here. _

Hearing movement he flicked his eyes over to Lacey again but she wasn't getting up. Instead she had moved onto her side and curled up into a ball. She had obviously decided she would rather be asleep. He grunted to himself and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling.

There was really nothing else to do. He had agreed to do this and no matter how tedious something became he had to see it through to the very end. All he had done for about six days now was sit around. Or stand around…

Clearly the next five days were going to be much of the same.


	4. Four

Why did he always put himself into these situations? Alex Rider gritted his teeth and pushed the question from his mind as he stepped out of the unmarked car that had brought him from London to Edinburgh. From here he would have to make his own way. On his own as usual. He wasn't in the least bit surprised.

Maybe it had been the look on George Watson's face that had pushed him into agreeing in the end. Maybe it had been simply the thrill he had felt coursing through his veins as he recognised another adventure on the horizon.

Whatever it had been, now he was here he wanted to get back into the car, go back to London and forget all about this Lacey girl. He knew that wasn't an option. Not only had his ride already gone, swallowed up by the Princes Street traffic, he knew he wouldn't be able to just leave this girl to whatever fate was planned for her. Not without _trying _to save her.

Alex had been briefed on the whole situation just before he left MI6 Headquarters, as well as being given a couple of gadgets from Smithers. What he couldn't understand, however, was why Lacey had been kidnapped in the first place. She and her father, from what he could gather, had never met and he couldn't see how she would be any use to any kidnapper. It didn't make a lot of sense to him.

_It doesn't even matter, _he thought to himself as he pushed his way through the busy street. What mattered was that a young woman _had _been kidnapped. The reason wasn't important to him. It was none of his business. His job was to find out where she was being held and stage an escape, get her back to London… and let Blunt and the rest handle it from there.

Alex pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, checking the address. Before he'd left MI6 had been able to trace the originating location of the e-mail. There was always a chance that 'M' - whoever he was - had used another location than the place he was staying to send the e-mail itself… but it was worth a shot. Maybe he'd left clues.

Shoving the paper back into his pocket, Alex continued down the street, stopping the occasional passer-by to ask for directions.

* * *

The irritation Yassen had felt earlier on had worn off as quickly as it had started. Now he was his usual self, content to sit and patiently wait out the hours. Lacey was another matter altogether. She'd woken up an hour earlier and Yassen had watched her wriggle around and change her position every few minutes.

Now he watched her finger tap against her leg with no hint of interest on his face. She glanced up at him and caught his eye, rolling her own and turning away again. "Do you have to be so... still?"

"Would you rather I was as restless as you?" He asked, his voice flat and emotionless. That bothered her.

"Well wouldn't you be?" Lacey snapped, turning her eyes on him again. She made no attempt to hide the anger that flashed in them. "If you were me?"

Yassen didn't bother to respond. Instead he stared at her until she was forced to look away, unable to meet that impassive stare any longer. His lack of emotion and feeling made her uncomfortable. She had never met anybody so devoid of life. It was as if he were already dead.

She didn't voice that opinion but, if she had, Yassen may well have told her he was indeed, in a way, dead. Ever since that one time working for Damian Cray he had been 'dead'. A select few people - mostly criminals he had worked for since - knew he was still alive and had been threatened and terrified into secrecy. Scorpia didn't seem to know… but he knew they could easily find out. He worked freelance now, and he was extremely careful. Working for Cray had been a nearly fatal mistake. One he wouldn't make again.

But Lacey said nothing, and neither did Yassen, the two lapsing into yet another long and uncomfortable silence.

Not for the first time, Yassen wondered just what this young woman was needed for. He knew it was something to do with her father but he was under the impression she had never met the man who had helped bring her into this world. The assassin couldn't see the connection. Would a man who hadn't been in her life for twenty-two years actually care about her capture? He wasn't sure.

Reminding himself that it wasn't his business, and his only concern was his payment, Yassen stared out of the window across the room. The sky was grey but it was bright outside nonetheless. Just after midday.

He wondered if there was any way he could make time go faster.


	5. Five

**Sorry, this took a little longer to get done than I wanted. Life and all. Also, it's mainly just filler because people were asking and I really wanted to get something done but I had no real inspiration at the time so... if you feel it sucks, it's probably because it does but don't stop reading or reviewing! - The next chapter should be the beginning of the action! Enjoy...**

* * *

Yassen ran a hand over his eyes, almost sighing in irritation. He composed himself and stood up, glancing across the room towards Lacey who was watching him warily. "You need to eat." He said matter-of-factly. She had pretty much refused to eat the entire time she had been there but he could see she was hungry. She was also exhausted, which was no surprise. She spent a lot of time forcing herself to stay awake. A bad combination. He couldn't have her passing out from exhaustion and starvation. If she was in very bad shape when she was collected by his employer he doubted he would get paid quite so much.

In a way Yassen silently applauded Lacey. She was obviously frightened, he could see it lingering in her eyes despite her obvious attempts to hide it. Yet she rarely let it show, often glaring at him unabashedly from across the room. Yassen hadn't yet decided if she was brave or simply stupid.

Lacey shook her head and Yassen was aware of her fists clenching on her lap. "I'm not hungry."

"Yes, you are." He turned on his heel and headed towards the kitchen, practically feeling her hatred for him as she glared at his back.

He would make her a sandwich. That was easy enough. He opened the cupboard and took out the loaf of bread. "Cheese?" He peered through the kitchen door into the living room and saw Lacey roll her eyes. He took that as a yes and proceeded to make the sandwich, feeling slightly amused.

* * *

Lacey sat with her jaw clenched for a moment before she stood up and stomped towards the kitchen. She stopped at the door and stood watching her captor while he buttered the bread and pretended that he didn't know she was there.

It was a very surreal moment. Lacey standing in the doorway of a kitchen in a quaint little house in the middle of nowhere with the man who was holding her captive making her lunch. If she wasn't here watching it happen before her eyes, she wouldn't have believed it.

"I'm not going to eat it." She said when the silence became too much for her to bear.

Yassen shrugged, glancing up at her and acknowledging her for the first time in several minutes. "That is your choice."

Lacey frowned and held eye contact with him for another second before he looked back down at the food in front of him. He picked it up and held it out to her.

She snatched the plate from him and stalked back into the living room. She was angry. She didn't want to eat anything this man gave her and yet now that the food was in front of her she could feel her stomach growling, crying out to be fed. If she ate it now she would look stupid and he would win.

"Ugh," she muttered to herself as she flopped down onto the sofa and stared at the plate that now sat on her knee.

"Eat it." When Yassen's voice came again it startled her and she jumped. "This is not a contest, and I am not going to think you stupid if you eat." A pause. "On the contrary, if you don't eat it when you are so obviously hungry, _then _you will look stupid."

Lacey rolled her eyes, annoyed that she was so transparent. She stared at him for a long time, searching his cold blue eyes for any trace of emotion, something to make him more human. She found nothing but turned back towards the sandwich in front of her with a soft sigh.

"Fine." she breathed as she picked up the sandwich and began to eat as Yassen's phone started ringing in his pocket.

* * *

Alex stood outside a block of disappointingly normal looking flats. Now that he'd found his way here he was basically putting off any further action. He'd been standing out here for twenty minutes and if he stayed in the same place for much longer somebody would notice and become suspicious.

Shaking his head, Alex turned and walked in through the entrance, heading up the flight of stairs in front of him. He double checked the paper in his pocket and hurried up the next two staircases and walked cautiously along the corridor until he stood outside number thirty-three. He waited, listening at the door trying to determine whether or not there was anybody inside.

After a moment or two he decided there was nobody in the room and pulled off his backpack, rooting around until he found what he wanted. A pick gun and a torsion wrench which, combined, would help him pick the lock and gain access to the flat.

Crouching down by the keyhole, Alex suddenly wished it was as simple as using a skeleton key. Apparently he wasn't allowed to have anything like that and would have to make do with acting like a common criminal. Awesome.

It took a few attempts to get the timing right but eventually he managed to bypass the lock and open the door. Mildly irritated, he shoved the tools into his bag, stood up and walked into the flat.

He'd been right, there was nobody there. Not only was there no_body_, there was also no_thing. _No furniture of any kind, just empty space. Alex left the door wide open and stepped inside, looking around.

There was obviously no chance he would find anything in here. It was useless. He'd only been in Scotland a few hours and already the trail had run dry. What was he supposed to do? Catch a train home? Call MI6? He doubted Mr Blunt would be keen on either of those options but he really didn't see what else he was supposed to do.

He only saw it when he was turning back round to leave. In the kitchen. A small slip of paper wedged in a crack between the washing machine and the counter. It must have fallen down there, though _how_ he had no idea. He walked over and carefully pulled it out.

"An address?" He murmured to himself after he'd unfolded it and scanned the writing. He didn't recognise it but then he wasn't very familiar with Scotland. Maybe somebody in the town knew where it was. It was worth checking out, he figured. Besides, it was the only thing he had to go on right now.

He made his way to the door, a new confidence filling him now that he knew where he was heading. Alex raced down the stairs and out into the fresh air. It had been darker and stuffier in there than he'd realised. He felt better now that he was out of the building and he rushed up the street towards the town centre, unaware that a man in a long jacket and sunglasses was watching him carefully from across the street.


	6. Six

**Okay so some people have been complaining about Lacey's name. I don't think it's entirely necessary but I'll throw you a bone and change her surname. That's as good as I can do : ) Okay. **

**Now. I know I've not been great with the updates but, hey, life and that. I don't know where this is going right now… try and enjoy it! The story is going a bit slower than I would like but I haven't had time to sit and properly get something down. I have a vague all round idea, it's the stuff in the middle I'm having difficulty with but I don't want to abandon it completely.**

* * *

The man on the other end of the phone spoke rapidly in rather broken English but Yassen understood perfectly. "Oh, really?" he smirked, not really surprised. This was interesting. Alex Rider was on his way. It couldn't really be anybody else. He couldn't say he hadn't been expecting to run into the boy again but he hadn't thought it would be quite so soon.

He was half torn. Alex had been sent to retrieve the girl, there was no doubt about it, but if he interfered he would be killed. These people were no Damian Cray, Alex wouldn't last one minute if it came to a fight. Yassen had given too much of his time to prevent that for him to allow Alex to die now. However, simply handing Lacey over was out of the question. He needed to be paid. This last payment and then he could go back to Russia. Maybe he would never work again. His little dream of retirement would finally be a reality.

"Thank you." Yassen spoke again, finally, his expression giving nothing away. "No, of course you will be paid for your services but it would be better if we did not speak again. Goodbye." He hung up on the man. Of course he would have to pay him, but not a lot. Standing across the street from a building to keep an eye out for any potential spies MI6 would send in wasn't really worth a lot of money. Anybody could do it.

* * *

The room was quiet for a long time. Yassen didn't really feel the need to say anything and Lacey didn't dare. She hadn't really been able to gather a lot from the phone call, Yassen himself had barely said anything, simply listened to whoever was on the other end. Lacey hoped it wasn't the man who had arranged her kidnapping. It didn't seem like it would be. Last time they had called Yassen had left the room and hadn't spoken English at all.

She sighed, setting the plate she was holding to the side. She was no longer hungry and had only eaten half of the sandwich he had practically forced her to eat. That was how she was determined to see it anyway. There was no way she would see this man as anything but a creep. _At the least._ She had no idea what he was really like. Did he have any compassion at all? She wondered if he had a wife or kids of his own. He probably didn't, she decided. He didn't seem the type.

God, she was going out of her mind. Or rather, she was spending too much time _in _her mind. Sitting with only your own thoughts for conversation can be very tiring.

Lacey jumped suddenly when something moved beside her and her head shot up. She realised it was only Yassen removing the plate and she sighed, pulling her legs up onto the sofa and hugging them to her. Yassen glanced at her before leaving the room.

Lacey was getting angry. Why didn't he say anything! She was going to go mad.

Suddenly, on impulse, Lacey jumped up and threw a glance towards the kitchen before she set off running out of the room. Her heart was already pounding in her chest when she reached the front door, ready for the disappointment of there being no way out. She threw her arm out anyway, her fingers curling round the door handle, pulling hard. Lacey gasped, almost falling backwards as the door opened smoothly. It was a miracle. Who keeps someone hostage and doesn't lock the front door?

Lacey hopped forward, preparing to escape, when strong arms closed around her and she panicked. _Yassen. _Jesus, this man was fast. Instantly she saw her chance to escape slip away before her eyes and she became frantic. She kicked and thrashed in Yassen's arms, determined to free herself from his grip.

* * *

He was strong and simply stood still behind her, allowing her to drain her energy. She couldn't fight forever.

"You shouldn't have done that." Yassen murmured in her ear, a slight frown creasing his features, as he felt Lacey start to give up. There was no way she could get out of his hold. He had only unlocked the door when she was sleeping earlier so he could get some air. He hadn't assumed she would even bother trying to escape through the front door - it was too obvious - which is why he'd just left it.

When Lacey stopped fighting altogether, her nails digging into his arm but not really hurting, Yassen kicked the door shut and turned her - rather roughly - towards the living room. He pushed her down onto the sofa. "Stop making this difficult."

He didn't say anything else, letting the look in his eyes do the talking for him. After three minutes he turned away, striding out of the room and disappearing from view. The sound of the key turning in the lock seemed to echo through the entire house.

_Yassen, 1. Lacey, 0._

* * *

Alex swore under his breath. He had been wandering across open field for about an hour and a half and he would have given anything to see something other than grass. It was just green everywhere. Oh it was beautiful alright, just as Scotland promised to be, but God it was awful.

If he could see one car just for a second, or another human being, then maybe he would feel better. Alex imagined living out here all the time and decided he would go crazy in less than two days. He had no idea how people did it.

He didn't come across the little house in the middle of nowhere for another hour. By now he was so frustrated with Blunt and the whole of MI6 that he had been toying, once again, with the notion of turning around and heading home. Leaving it to the big boys. Of course he wouldn't actually turn back now, it seemed simple enough to him. Get in. Get the girl. Get out. Easy.

_Yeah, right! _He scoffed. How many times had he been told that it would be 'easy this time'. 'No big deal'. 'Piece of cake'. 'In and out'. 'Simple surveillance'. No. He had a strange feeling that this one would be just as tough as the rest.

Alex felt horribly exposed as he stalked carefully across the field towards the house. He didn't know what to expect. What if there were loads of armed men in there? How was he supposed to get Lacey away from hardened criminals all the way out here? They would be shot dead before they could even cross half the field. There was nowhere to hide. This wasn't looking hopeful.

Crouching underneath a window, Alex found himself not really knowing what to do. He couldn't just pop up and peer in through the window. He would most likely be seen. He looked around, almost panicking, before his eyes landed on a small pile of bricks almost hidden round the side of the house. He crawled over and picked one up, weighing it in his hand.

Well... he had no idea what he was doing and would probably get killed but he supposed it was better than doing absolutely nothing.

* * *

Yassen was sitting in his seat again, gazing calmly at Lacey. She was, what anybody else would call, 'in a huff'. Yassen called it 'being difficult'.

Neither of them had spoken since Lacey's near escape. Although it was hardly a near escape because Yassen would have easily been able to catch her even if she'd been able to make it through the door, but the point still stood. She had broken the rules. He would need to inform his employer of this incident. He would let them deal with it however they wanted. They may do nothing at all. Although, with men like these you never could-

Yassen never got a chance to finish his thought as the first brick came flying through the window.


	7. Seven

**Hey guys, I'm really sorry I didn't put this up sooner. I went on holiday and I came back and I had no internet and then a bunch of stuff happened... anyway, here's the next chapter.**

* * *

Yassen rolled his eyes and stood up, ignoring Lacey's scream of surprise, and made his way swiftly to the window. Another brick came crashing through and he had just enough time to duck to the side. He was lucky, the brick barely missed his face.

Judging from the direction the brick had hurtled into the room he quickly realised that the culprit was positioned underneath the window. He drew his gun, sticking it through the jagged hole in the glass, and pointed it down.

"Crap," whoever it was muttered beneath him. Yassen narrowed his eyes slightly and peered cautiously out of the hole in the window.

That was when he almost laughed - but he wasn't that kind of person. Instead he sighed almost inaudibly and with an amused glint in his eye he put away his gun. "I wasn't expecting you so soon, Alex."

Alex almost passed out. He would recognise that voice anywhere. Yassen Gregorovich. He closed his eyes for a moment, pulling himself together, and then looked up at the window. Emotionless blue eyes stared back down at him. This was impossible. Alex slowly rose to his feet, not really sure what to do now. He had expected a mob of armed men, not one recently deceased assassin.

Though obviously he wasn't really dead at all.

Alex felt his head start to spin. When had his life become to confusing? Oh yeah, the morning he'd been told his uncle had been killed. By the same man who was now staring at him with a thoughtful look on his usually expressionless face.

"You'd better come in Alex," The Russians voice snapped him back from his thoughts. "It looks cold out there."

* * *

There hadn't really been anything else he could have done. If he had turned to run he had no doubt Yassen would probably have come after him. Or shot him. Thus far the assassin had been reluctant to kill him but that didn't mean he wouldn't shoot him in the leg. Alex would prefer not to be shot again.

So now he was sitting on the sofa next to Lacey, who was staring at the wall with her arms crossed. She didn't understand what was going on and who could blame her? She'd been kidnapped and held hostage and all of a sudden this random kid shows up and her captor seems amused to see him. In fact they seem to know each other from somewhere and that confuses her most of all. Where would a kid meet a man like this? A kid_napper _no less! Nothing was making any sense and she had fallen into some sort of a trance.

Alex turned to look at Yassen. He was still amazed the man was alive. Only one month had passed since his last mission. Quickly he banished the thought of crocodiles from his mind and shuddered. It no longer shocked him that madmen were everywhere. Anything seemed possible. So why was he so stunned to see Yassen alive?

It was only now he realised that the Russian was staring at him. He stared back. An amused look appeared in Yassen's eyes before it disappeared a moment later. "Did you find Scorpia?" The man asked.

Alex started at the sound of his voice and looked away. Scorpia. "They had me shot."

"That is unfortunate." Yassen didn't actually look very bothered about it. Alex might as well have told him that they were out of milk and the reaction wouldn't be any different. Did this life truly turn you into such an unfeeling monster, Alex wondered.

They fell into silence once more. Alex had no desire to discuss his Scorpia adventure with Yassen and Yassen seemed to have no desire to hear about it. Lacey sighed heavily and Alex turned to look at her. "You okay?"

Lacey rolled her eyes, not even bothering to look at him. "Oh yeah, I'm _fantastic_, thanks for asking." Of course she wasn't okay, what a stupid question.

"Be quiet." Yassen's voice cut Alex off as the teen opened his mouth to respond.

Lacey sighed again, softly this time, and looked down at her hands. Alex thought she was going to cry and he turned away. He started to try and think of a way to escape. So far the whole mission had pretty much failed and Alex was certain he wouldn't be able to escape Yassen. From what he'd seen the Russian was _very _good at his job and wasn't one for making stupid mistakes like letting two captives escape. Even if he didn't want to kill Alex there was no way he could just let him go now. It looked like Alex would be meeting the boss.

Whoever that was…

* * *

Hours had passed since the boy - Alex - had arrived, but she didn't know how many. In here all sense of time just sort of faded away. Nobody had said anything for a while and the silence was killing her. Every so often she would feel one of them looking towards her. She pretended not to notice.

Sighing, Lacey drew her legs up to her chest and hid her face in the gap between her knees, closing her eyes and trying to pretend she was somewhere else. _Anywhere _else. It was no good, all she kept thinking about was that she was going to meet whoever it was who had ordered her kidnap, find out why, then most likely die a very horrible death in the hands of madmen. It all sounded like a film when she thought about it and she very nearly jumped up and yelled "_cut!_" to whatever director was standing behind the scenes. She knew though, that this was no film, and she was in very big trouble.

* * *

Yassen had been thinking. He'd been trying to decide what his next move should be. If he made the wrong one everything could go to hell and there was no way he was letting this contract go. There was too much money involved. He was too tired. He was getting too old to be in this business for much longer. All he wanted to do was disappear and live out the rest of his life in St Petersburg.

He didn't want Alex to be killed but there didn't seem to be any way around it now. If he let him go he would run back to MI6 and they would send some agents instantly. If he kept him here he sentenced him to death. Yassen felt that irritability coming back to him and fought to keep it under control. _Why _did Alex have to get himself involved in everything? Hadn't he told him to say no? Hadn't he told him to quit? Obviously the boy was completely stupid.

His phone rang. He was getting sick of hearing it and wished this was all over so he never had to use a mobile phone again. He stood up and walked out of the room, pressing the answer button.

"_Da?" _A man started speaking in rapid Russian on the other end of the phone and Yassen listened, not desiring to ask any questions, though he did quickly tell the man that he had another captive.

He was starting to really hate these people. What was the point of all this waiting and dragging it out? The man finished talking.

"_Do svidaniya_." Yassen said as he hung up, not waiting for the goodbye to be returned.

He stalked back into the room and sat down. Alex and Lacey were staring at him. "You have two days. Then they come for you." He met Alex's glare. "Both of you."

* * *

Three hours later Alex's phone rang and he winced. Of course he'd be the idiot who would forget to put it on silent when he was on a top secret mission for the government. You never saw that happen to James Bond.

Yassen eyed him and held out his hand. Alex sighed and slid the phone from his pocket, taking a moment to glance at the caller ID. George Watson. Alex didn't even remember putting his number in his phone. Watson must have done it when he wasn't looking. Great. Thank you very much George. He handed the phone over but not before Lacey peered over his shoulder. "George Watson?"

Yassen's eyes narrowed ever so slightly and if Alex hadn't been looking at him then he wouldn't have noticed.

After being told this was all about her father, Lacey refused to believe that this was a coincidence. "My father's name is George Watson, is that him? It is isn't it! What is going on? Why would you have my dad's number? Why would some random kid have It and not me?"

"Lacey he's…"

"Alex." Yassen's voice was low as he interrupted but there was a dangerous edge to it that Alex knew he couldn't ignore. He shoved the phone into the assassin's hand and spoke to Lacey though he was still holding Yassen's gaze. "It's nothing Lacey, it's a different man. Same name, that's all. There are probably tons of George Watson's walking around."

Yassen took the battery out of the phone and placed it in his own pocket, leaving the rest of the phone on a table beside his chair. "Can't have anyone tracking you here, can we?"

"No." Replied Alex. "I don't suppose we can."


End file.
